Essay on the comic book

Not having friends because of not being that. There aren’t any.

The conception of this does not exist for those who are from the highly organized civilization which is based in the view that being free is having consumer goods.

Not using the mind.

We see as in this—the comic book—one frame at a time.

only not in

the comic book

This other civilization, which they are viewing (who are from the highly organized civilization), does not have order. There is no order. A bus driver is a function, who might drive until running out of gas. Not knowing where he is going, and seemingly not even wondering. It is not a matter of where the bus is to be going. Not merely from not being organized. Though it is repressive.

Consuming is not the ideal.

The repression emanates from the state but the refusal of order is rebellion.

Not using the mind is rebellion—at first—in the comic book.

Went to the arcade

but only alone

that is the department store. It was a city which had a high glass-domed ceiling, tiers, hundreds of compartments with only a few goods, interior bridges.

The crowd pressing into the cells. A crowd waiting in line outside one cell.

The (other) is beside herself. In where the mother whales are suckling the babies, stillness, the foam spray of the turmoil being on the outside. She is right up next to them, amongst them.

The side of one of the creatures.

mind isn’t in

this

In the hive of the arcade, the intruder foreigner has come in surrounded by a mob—who’re the mirror images, the reverse of civilization and don’t move.

mind is before

standing amongst them who’re standing eating and don’t move yet bump her—

it is outside

them, the crowd

of the arcade department

store

The crowd seeming to jeer at us leaving in droves having it was found later seen banners advertising it as a strip show. Not knowing at the time. And so the young man having been jeered compared it to after coming out, discovered by his classmates, being ridiculed on the schoolbus.

Those of the highly organized-ordered-civilization ridiculing for using the mind

I’d written a paper which the teacher

read to us and my friend ridiculing me

after as being a vegetable

I did not speak to the friend again.

and hurting the

crowd

The effect of the comic book unintentionally is hurting the crowd

hurting the crowd

from that

them

from themselves—I had written a paper and the teacher read it to the class so the friend afterwards screaming that I was a vegetable ridiculing using the mind.

floating as themselves

on itself

The systems there was completely different from the individual, from the people.

who were at the same time the reverse image of the ordered civilization

experience

as learned

experience is learned

from them

Those who are without social power are less inclined to see reality as orderly

not from their view

less inclined to see the social construction as unified

is the reverse

Being in the crowd and don’t move is the reverse image and so neither joy or use of the mind in them.

before it

changing them

from inside

and so only in rare instances is the comic book in rapport with the experience of its readers.

the emancipation from experiences

The people who are going to work walking with their briefcases or with shopping bags past the sea on the sand—on their way—the moon in the sky above them.

Our collective sense of not making connections which is seeing as fragmentary series is not a given.

Essay on the comic book

(Walter Benjamin’s Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High

Capitalism, Verso Press)

The crowd—is not conformity.

The people from the highly organized civilization—coming to the other civilization which had no order, though repressed—were hungry ghosts.

they had thin, narrow throats and huge bellies so that it had to be beforehand, others had to open to them

to get the narrow throats open so that they could eat and be released

communing occurs as

we have created it and

choose it

the hungry ghosts do not see communing

people do not feel there to be a rapport with the comic book of the Metropolis for their experience has changed

it has occurred before

it is the exact same thing as experience

so a meanness emanated from the thin-throated people unable to eat who had huge bellies—in the civilization of the bus driver who drives as a function without knowing where he’s going, which is without order as being rebelling

and creating

imperialism, from the two civilizations

Experience is a matter of tradition, in collective existence as well as private life. Serial as the assembly line.

the comic book is exact same thing as experience—before it

only

to enable the hungry ghosts to get their throats open to eat—which were reversed in to the civilization in which no taxis could be flagged, or they wouldn’t take the person who’d stopped them if they didn’t feel like it.

The metros in the repressed civilization go deep many floors down into the ground.

heads bowed

filing

they all said there is no light in their eyes—said by the narrow-throated hungry ghosts with huge bellies who were protruded as funnels into the Metropolis.

One of these who’d come there, pale with the liquid blood interior seen in the mouth—went on the escalator that ran into the deep metro. The same as in its own ordered civilization, the corpse of a bum lay.

now they are being excluded from the station

to live, unless they have a ticket

to be emancipated from experiences, in the comic book—to be it as such.

to have no other self

than in the comic book¹¹

and so for one not to be in rapport with it—or with experience—as being Baudelaire’s discovery.

being outside of the experiences of the civilization—that can be by these not having order

The man driving a car in the (his) metropolis which before setting out is

going to run out of gas, and looking driving in narrow mired dark alleys for a filling spot—not knowing if one will be there—smoke stacks pouring clouds into the night sky.

That Baudelaire felt the above as suffering—not being able to have historical experience—making that discovery but it surfaced as suffering.

in the person contemplating

There not being historical experience—is the comic book.

The narrow-necked from the ordered civilization have no experiences.

in them

afterwards

Expecting such of friendship, in them, as being convention—which is not convention.

___________________________________

the comic book—is calm.

The Geographical History of America reads like seeing it on the retina. It is light, dying, subjection to gang ridiculing.

Essay on the comic book

(Each of the lines or paragraphs is one of the frames of the comic book.)

The crowd marks the split between themselves and experience.

They construct all the buildings to be the same.

That’s a different way of regarding; so the man whose function it is to drive the bus doesn’t know where he’s going or seem to wonder.

as it is before

him

Not using the mind—which then occurs in the frames of the comic book afterward—with the bus driver from the civilization without order though it is repressed

then

I was out in the cornfields, and sky—and people would pull alongside shouting obscenities saying to go back where one’d come from.

What is the relation of action—someone’s—to the unfolding of phenomena?

The farm boys coming up alongside with obscenities out in the fields.

Wavering alongside and if one says they’re from there, their exploding feeling insulted.

Which is really funny.

Just say back to them they’re from there and they erupt.

At a streetlight, out in the fields—out in nowhere—and they waver there alongside shouting.

then feel hurt in public

from what had been before.

One cannot expect to be a bum.

The reverse of that-which is before

where people used to lie in the train stations

and now they have to have a ticket

Not using the mind—is contemplating—in the comic book.

The newspapers have created the impression of disjointed experiences.

But I don’t read them.

anyway, we’re not in these experiences

is the impression created by the newspapers which

do not allow us to make connections

Not having historical experience—is the comic book as the form of the serial novel. Though popularly we’re supposed to be in them—this is a deprivation created by the newspapers themselves.

The moon is in the day sky, now out in the cornfields—rather than in the civilization which does not have order, though it is repressed.

The farm boys handing wavering floating at the crossroad—alongside, shouting obscenities.

are from the ordered civilization where the bum lying has died in the subway station.

as such they’re not in experiences—as the reverse image of the deprivation created by the newspapers.

The serial—but then being before it

And afterwards there’s only that

They are out by the fields

These boys were shouting, maybe because they’re together—wavering hanging leaning out coming alongside.

I feel depressed—I’m tired of being made fun of.

Farm boys who’re just youths floating leaning out

People standing like the cattle in the sea—waist deep, standing

on grass

being invalidated and nothing

is the reverse image of the ordered civilization

and one is calm

____________

I was in a huge crowd which was a sea of people at a rally in a square.

standing

Claustrophobia of feeling that one was going to throw up—in the crowd—and moving through the crowd.

then

who don’t move, though there was one woman elbowing moving through the crowd propelled. Her swimming through them, I moved in the opening following her.

Someone else saying—outside, on the outskirts—that they had had a feeling of going to throw up in the crowd. They were outside then. It not moving.

My feeling of going to throw up in it and the woman swimming elbowing as the only moving being

flags banners held up on the mass

And if you took pictures they turned stolidly, staring thinking you were taking pictures of them. that that would be repressive

to them

standing.

I woke up tying my shoe fully dressed, which I’d done myself, crying.

From this, I perceived there was no one there. Saying this to a friend when I was an adult, he said: that concern is such to you that the episode occurred. which itself might not happen to someone else, something else would happen to them.

sort of like finding your way out of a paper bag.

Man who is a soldier—in an invaded country. His army has brutalized and killed people there in the countryside. Their dead wouldn’t be allowed to be seen or presented in his own land.

So the expression of this is he comes upon only the corpses in their countryside of his own people.

and will never go back

to his own civilization

the jewel

is not doing so.

This was as close as they could come.

on the part of what had been the conquered people

and are not that they appear as only calm

A man riding in a taxi, the taxi driver has a conversation about being in the war. He seems very aggressive.

The one thing about being there was he enjoyed killing and can’t do that here.

having someone them at the point of his gun and then killing them made him feel—

the comic book—using the mind one

can’t do here either

It was not acceptable to criticize oneself.

The (other) is in her apartment. At night happy the man in the neighboring compartment on the other side of the wall bumping against the wall—reading. Him urinating, in his stall.

The night is so still—outside—reading.

Walking back at night.

The branches of the trees hanging, she walks through them.

A mutt comes running out. It jumps in the air—as it’s little—and bites a tuft of the artificial fur of her jacket. Tears off a bite. It has done this before.

Mutt.

A man steps out of the trees. Innocent, wounded, he is someone who emits poison as would a scorpion with the tail raised over the back—before—and injecting the poison out of the bulb of it.

He is innocent. He wants her to do a job. Find his daughter, yet his manner is skittish in the sense of tough and wounded.

She returns to the apartment. The man of the adjoining compartment, who’d urinated in his stall. stamping.

He does not want to be seen—the poison bulb tail wounded before

he is not like the soldier who’d been given a seat in a boat—who’d disguised as a Buddhist monk—

realistically this is because the passenger in it is a monk but subliminally

those who’d been the ones invaded are completely calm.

so he can

not go to his own civilization

can be allowed not to.

but the poison bulb wounded is not contemplative like this.

he seems to be

why?

She is talking to him out on the street—in the day.

wangling like sending a hook out

His daughter had apparently blended into the street life and he hadn’t seen her for a year or sought for her—before.

Aged landlady—this was before it came apart, and she died—needing her, very old drunken blissful seen staggering in the yard in the plants.

Happening into her there. Where she’d seem to come out.

Baudelaire’s discovery of not being in experience

in the crowd

She sees the man’s daughter on the street one day—the (other) is with him who can therefore see her.

The girl coming up in stream, the three go into a coffee shop. Bulb wounded poison emitting that into her, the girl looks at him with a simple open sympathy.

She says that she loves him. A disapproval emanating from him, bulb wounded innocent intimates afterward to the (other) that the job has not yet been completed.

The comic book—being written as there is a market for it.

inventing the sense of private psyche—which had been before—is an expression of the split between self and experiences.

and is aware that it is that.

so it had not existed—doesn’t after this.

Man acted for our CIA for/in the other’s war and isn’t tried.

Isn’t tried since the proof is classified by our CIA for whom he works. Our utterly corrupt system.

The man is released. She hopes to see him and a man in the street is lying dead beaten covered in blood and being washed by the rain. The rain is pounding slanting in sheets on the street. The man is being washed for his grave. Her having come to the man’s door, a small group in streetlight is hovering around the mound lying there. Shred.

A patrol car is parked but dimmed in the rain.

Thin blood running off the mound. Remnant or rim of blood on it tuft—

yet not being in one’s own civilization

the jewel